


Bloody Harlequin

by bzarcher



Series: Triptych [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Commissioned fic, Commissioner's OC, Cryofreezing, Flashbacks, Got A Little Crazy On You, Graphic Violence, Homelessness, Mental Illness, Mental Instability, Multi, Murder, Omnic Racism, Omnic Underground, Post-Canon, Post-Uprising UK, Shambali, Ships are mostly in background, Talon - Freeform, Talon Experiments, Unreliable Narrator, talon brainwashing, time jumps, transformations, weird science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 03:56:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12027600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: All Jack Hyde ever wanted to do was fight for those who couldn't fight for themselves.He thought Overwatch would let him be a hero, but he learned that maybe it wasn't so simple as that.Lies. Pain. Murder. Hatred.Could the world possibly still need more heroes after all that? And is he still capable of being one?





	Bloody Harlequin

_High Security Detention Facility_ _  
_ _Location Unknown_

 

Jack looked around the room that he’d been placed in. The walls were bare, painted in a pleasant shade of blue that was probably supposed to be relaxing. The fixtures were all fairly plain, all of the sheets and linens had a sheen that spoke to be being made of fire resistant materials, and the heavy-looking door with a window slot and shutter mounted in it, to allow whomever was checking in on him to look inside without opening the door.

All things considered, it was a much more comfortable cell than some of the ones he’d occupied, but it was still a cell.

He’d started to wonder if he would simply be left to rot in here when the shutter slid open to reveal an omnic’s face with golden accents and a cluster of nine blue glowing sensors in his forehead, making Jack gasp in surprise.

_A Tekhartha?!_

He stood, bowing his head as the door opened, and a moment later there was a faint whooshing, chiming sound as the Shambali monk entered, the door sliding shut and latching behind him.

“Greetings,” the omnic spoke in a rich, ringing voice. “I understand your name is Jack?”

He looked up, nodding. “Yes,” he said softly, “that’s right.”

The tekhartha extended a hand. “I am Zenyatta. Peace be upon you, Jack Hyde.”

Jack looked at the contrast of his grey skin against Zenyatta’s plated fingers, like steel resting on wet concrete, and laughed bitterly. “Not much, Tekhartha. Not often.”

Zenyatta’s head tilted with concern and he gestured to the bed. “Perhaps I may help. Please, sit. Be comfortable.”

Jack settled back and looked down at the wickedly clawed feet of his artificial legs. “Comfortable’s a bit…relative.”

Zenyatta nodded, his voice sympathetic. “So I understand. I understand you have studied some of the Shambali’s teachings before?”

Jack nodded again. “Yes…before…” He looked up. “I’m sorry about Mondatta.”  
  
“My brother would be honored to know he touched another life before his passing – especially if he was able to give you some solace in your darker times.” Zenyatta folded his hands across his lap, the mala of orbs around his neck chiming softly as his shoulders shifted. “Now, it is my hope that I might be able to offer you a greater measure of tranquility.”

Jack laughed bitterly, reaching up to brush his hair out of his face. “I’m afraid there may not be much left for you to work with after all that I’ve done – that Talon did to me.” He’d tried not to smile too widely at Zenyatta after he’d entered, but he felt his lips pulling back into that rictus-like grin, exposing his perfectly crafted and much-too-sharp teeth. “Tranquility isn’t really something I’m familiar with these days.” _Quite the opposite, really._

“There is anger in you,” Zenyatta agreed, “and darkness…but you might be surprised.” His voice lilted with amusement as he angled his head slightly. “I have made a habit of taking some…exceptionally challenging students.”

He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “That’s an interesting way to put it.”

Zenyatta chuckled. “I’ve lead a very interesting life. I look forward to sharing a some of my story with you – but I think it is best if we begin with _your_ story, Jack.”

He shrugged. “Not really sure where to start.”

Zenyatta leaned back against thin air with a thoughtful hum, then raised one hand in an open, encouraging gesture. “There is always the beginning.”

* * *

 _Overwatch HQ_ _  
_ _Geneva, Switzerland_

 

Jack checked his slightly distorted reflection in the window. His cap was on straight, the duty uniform clean, hair neat in a tight undercut. He squared his shoulders, then knocked on the Strike Commander’s door.

“Come in!”

The door slid open and he stepped forward, saluting as he came to a regulation stop. “Cadet Hyde, sir! You wanted to see me?”

Morrison nodded from where he’d been looking out the wide window that dominated the back of his office, the sprawling Swiss countryside looking green and inviting in the late summer afternoon. “I did, yes.” Returning the salute, he gestured to one of the seats across from his anvil shaped desk. “Please – sit.”

“Sir.” He couldn’t help but be a bit nervous in the presence of Overwatch’s commander. Even now, with his hair going white and lines of worry etched into his face, Morrison was an icon – a paragon, really, and it was hard not to be a bit intimidated by the man. Especially when you’d grown up seeing his face on posters and television almost constantly.

Except, of course, that the Commander used to smile a lot more in those…and he was not smiling at all, now.

“I’ve been reviewing your records – you’ve almost finished your training hitch, as I understand it.”

Jack nodded. “Yes. It’s been challenging, but I’ve enjoyed the chance to show people what I can do.”

Morrison gave a little grunt. “You’re on the brink of graduating…but I need to tell you that you’re also right on the edge of washing out.”

Jack stiffened, blinking in surprise. “Excuse me, sir?”

The commander didn’t answer him directly, opening his file instead and beginning to read from it. “Jonathan Campion Hyde. Born August 9th, 2049 – happy birthday, by the way.”   
  
Jack gave the commander a confused look as he nodded. That had been a _week_ ago. “Thank you, sir.” _I think._

“You grew up in Northallerton…did your basic education and then opted for early enlistment at 15 with your mother’s consent. Joined the Royal Marines and earned a spot in 3 Commando’s light infantry as soon as you’d qualified for front line duties…competed for one of the openings into our cadet class and you’ve been making a name for yourself here – both for your excellent test scores,” Morrison’s voice cooled noticeably as he looked up from the dossier, “and your willingness to bend the rules.”

Jack straightened just a bit against the back of the chair. “A Marine is expected to be a creative and innovative problem solver, sir. Do more with less. I’d have thought that’s a skill that would serve me well here.”

“That’s not my issue.” Morrison closed the file and looked up at him. “My concern – and the concern of several of the training officers whom you’ve worked with – is the way you’re willing to disregard orders, or how you try to go off on your own to accomplish an objective without consulting your team. You should know by now that’s an _excellent_ way to get killed.”

Jack frowned, irritation building in his gut like a million little pinpricks. “I got results, _sir._ On each of those occasions I ensured that we completed our mission successfully!”

The commander fixed him with an icy glare. “This is still a military organization, _cadet_ , and you are expected to follow the chain of command, not go off and try to be a hero!”

Jack struggled to keep his voice respectful and even, and not let his sudden rush of defensive anger and frustration color his tone. “With all due respect, Overwatch is _full_ of heroes – and I don’t recall seeing Leftenant Wilhelm ask for permission when he charges into an enemy position to help break a line, sir.”

The commander didn’t seem impressed. “Reinhardt also has _twenty years_ of hard-won front-line combat experience over you, and has _earned_ the trust and respect of his teammates. You have _not._ If you want to be in that position, one day, it starts with building trust with your team – and part of that is knowing that you can be depended on.” His expression softened. “I think your heart is in the right place, Hyde. But if someone is going into combat with you, they _need_ to know you’ll have their back.”

Despite his frustration at the commander, that hit home. “I would never want to let one of my squad down, sir.”

“Good.” Morrison sat back. “You’ll be deploying with a field operation in the morning. You can consider this your final exam, of sorts. If you work well as part of the team and the operation is a success, you’ll be activated as a full Agent and we’ll work to find the best place for you to fit in one of the active strike teams.” Jack started to smile, excitement racing through him, when Morrison raised a hand. “ _However,_ if I hear anything about you refusing to follow orders or pulling any kind of stunts in the field without the approval of your squad leader, you will be out the door so fast that it will make your head spin. Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

Jack stood and ripped off a parade ground salute. “Yes, sir!”

“Good.” Morrison stood, and gestured to the door. “Get some lunch and report to the main briefing room at 1330. You’ll get more details and then draw gear from the quartermaster for the mission.”

Jack nodded and made a clean about-face, keeping his face neutral and bearing straight until he’d left the office and the door had shut behind him, then grinned crookedly as he headed over to the mess. _Finally a chance to show everyone what I can do – and I’ll make you eat those words when we get back, Strike Commander!_

 

 _Overwatch Orca transport_ _  
_ _30,000 feet over Domodossola, Italy, en route to deployment zone._

 

It was interesting to see Tracer up close.

The hero of King’s Row, she’d been put up in the media afterwards as something of a modern day Harry Potter – the Girl Who Lived. Able to jump through space and time, she’d practically rooted Null Sector out of London by herself if you listened to some people.

From where Jack sat, watching her bounce her leg up and down, she seemed…nervous. Scared. God, and _young._ Not much older than him at all, really. He decided to give her a grin and a wink, hoping he could help buck her up a bit. “First you get to kick Null Sector out of London, now you get to take on Talon? Must be nice to start off with a couple of milk runs.”

Oxton rolled her eyes and snorted, but she had a slight grin on her face, and he’d been about to just sit back and enjoy the ride when Dr. Ziegler gave Oxton a reassuring little smile.

“You’ll do fine, Tracer.” She turned her focus to him with a colder glare, and he couldn’t help but shiver just a little. For someone who dressed up like an angel, she could put on a hell of a thousand yard stare. “And as for you, Cadet Hyde, I’d suggest you not be overconfident. Talon is dangerous, and they’ve hurt us before. Badly.”

Jack gave a painful grunt, Morrison’s lecture in his ears, along with thoughts of the brand new addition for Captain Amari on the memorial wall. “Yes ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.”

It was no coincidence that aside from himself, Oxton, and Ziegler, most of the team on this mission were the survivors from Amari’s old squad.

Talon was owed some payback, and they would be the ones to deliver it.

* * *

Jack took a deep breath. “It was a trap, of course.” He shook his head. “Don’t know if Talon planted something with the Italians so they would ask for Overwatch’s help, or if they had a mole messing with our intel from inside of Blackwatch. I suppose it doesn’t matter now, really.”

Zenyatta nodded. “Indeed. So you were ambushed?”

“Pretty much as soon as we dropped into the courtyard of the compound we were getting hit.” Jack’s eyes unfocused as he remembered the desperate fight. “They had surprise, several prepared weapons emplacements, and at least double the numbers we’d expected. A complete balls-up.”

“So,” Zenyatta leaned forward, his voice colored with interest, “what happened?”

Jack sighed before he chuckled bitterly. “I got shot.”

* * *

Jack had been trying to follow the orders from Ziegler and Mirembe, just as he’d been told to do, when he’d seen the glint of a scope from the top of a roof. He sucked in a breath, shouting “ ** _SNIPER!_** _”_ even as he had started to run.

He had planned to knock Oxton out of the way, get into cover, and try to put some suppressing fire up into the sniper’s nest, but that plan went out the window when Oxton disappeared in a flash of shimmering blue light just as they would have collided, making him stumble as he lost his balance, and a moment later a searing pain knocked the wind out of him as the sniper’s bullet tore through his side.

He fell to the ground, gasping for air, and the world seemed to go into slow motion as he felt another burst of agony as a bullet struck him in the leg.

_“Hyde is down! We’re taking heavy fire!”_

_“Morrison to Strike Team: Pull back!”_

Morrison’s orders to fall back, to _leave_ , echoed in his ears. He heard the sound of Oxton trying to argue, and being shouted down.

_“Commander, please, I can get him out of there!”_

_“Pull back! That’s an order, Tracer!”_

_“Sir, please…”_

_“I will not send you into certain death to collect a corpse! You have your orders – follow them!”_

_“…yes, Commander.”_

The noise of the battlefield slowly dulled and went quiet as the retreating strike team fell back.

_They left me…they think I’m dead…I’m still alive!_

He tried to scream, yell, thrash, _anything_ , but his body refused to listen. His lungs couldn’t summon enough air to make any real noise, and his efforts just burned energy he did not have as the world began to go black at the edges.

_They left me to die…_

The last thing he saw was the silhouette of a tall woman standing over him, a long ponytail flowing in the breeze.

* * *

_????_

_Location Unknown_

Jack wasn’t sure if he was awake or dreaming. He couldn’t move. It felt like he was floating, somehow, but even though he remembered how badly he’d been hurt, there was no pain. It was if he’d been swaddled in thick cotton from the neck down.

“Ah.” The voice seemed to come from everywhere. “Good. You’re awake.” It sounded like a man – older, he thought, but with a curious lack of accent. Like someone who had trained himself to sound as neutral as possible. “How do you feel?”

Jack tried to look around but all he could see was a white haze. “Hyde, Jonathan C. Provisional Agent OW-503194.”

The voice chuckled. “How interesting. I had no idea you could feel that way.”

Jack tried to frown, but he couldn’t feel his face. “Hyde, Jonathan C. Provisional –”

The voice interrupted him with just a slight bit of forcefulness behind the words. “We _know_ who you are, Mr. Hyde.” Smugness crept into his words. “Overwatch’s records system is not as secure as they might like to think.”

Jack kept his mouth shut and tried to outwait the voice, but after what seemed like hours of silence, he cracked. “Am I a prisoner here?”

The voice tutted softly. “You’re a guest, Mr. Hyde. Really, if one wanted to be specific, you’re a patient. You suffered some very serious injuries – I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Jack tried to wet his lips, but couldn’t work up any saliva to relieve his bone-dry mouth. “What are you going to do to me?”

“We’re going to help you, of course.” The voice seemed like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re _terrorists_ ,” Jack shot back. “Why would you _help_ anyone?”

The voice took on a gentler tone. It reminded him a bit of the kindly grandfathers you’d see in old films. “Talon exists to protect Humanity. We want to find ways to help humans reach their full potential and put the machines in their proper place.” It paused a moment, letting that sink in. Jack really didn’t _believe_ him, but from a certain angle it almost made sense.

“We believe you could be much more, Mr. Hyde, so we will find ways to unlock your greatness…by whatever means are necessary.”

There was a hissing noise, like a valve being released, and suddenly Jack felt something cool flowing into his veins, and as the ice spread through him and his vision darkened, it felt as if he was being completely swept away.

_What is happening to me?_

The next time he woke up, he was in a hospital bed, and Jack knew he wasn’t dreaming because everything _hurt_.

He could feel needles in his skin and straps around his wrists. Something seemed to be holding him to the bed, and his legs…

He couldn’t feel them.

He looked around frantically and finally realized a bedsheet and blanket had been drawn up over him, but he didn’t feel it there…and the blanket didn’t seem to shape itself to his body the way it should have.

Between the spike of adrenaline, the pain, and the lingering haze of whatever drugs he’d been pumped full of, his thoughts were sluggish and scattered, and it finally dawned on him that reason he didn’t feel anything was that his legs weren’t there anymore.

“What did they do?!”

He could hear a heartbeat monitor picking up, the _beep-beep-beep_ rising in speed and pitch, but didn’t quite realize that it must have been monitoring _him_.

“What happened to my legs?” There was no answer from the empty room. “ _Where are my LEGS?!”_

A door opened and he snapped his head around to see a nurse entering in charcoal grey scrubs, a dark red Talon logo embroidered on her breast. “It’s OK, sir. Please calm down for me?” She had a voice like a marshmallow that had been dipped in honey. “Just try to relax. You’re safe here. You’re going to be OK.”

Jack strained against the bonds holding him down. “I’m _not_ OK! What has happened to my legs?! **_WHY DID YOU TAKE MY LEGS?!"_**

The nurse’s eyes widened. “Oh, no…you don’t remember?”

Jack stared, wide eyed, and slowly shook his head. Was he supposed to remember something? Obviously _something_ had happened to him.

The nurse ran a gentle hand over his arm. “You were badly wounded. Shot several times. I’m afraid both of your legs…” She shook her head. “Between the trauma and the blood clots we found in the veins…I’m so sorry.”

“But I wasn’t shot in the legs,” Jack objected. “I wasn’t…” He looked down at his body, and suddenly knew what must have happened.

 _I got fragged by my own side_ , Jack realized. _I was hit by friendly fire after I went down. Talon wouldn’t shoot a man who was already dead, right? The sniper hit me in the side, so_ _they_ _must have hit my legs…_

_Overwatch crippled me and left me to die._

_Morrison, you_ **_bastard._ **

“It’s going to be OK,” the nurse promised, gently running a soothing hand over his forehead, subtly urging him to relax. “We’re going to help you. We need to let the wound sites heal before we can go further, but we will take care of you – I promise.”

Jack blinked slowly. He heard a whirring noise and his pain began to fade away as if it had never been. “ _Oh…_ ” The room seemed to unfocus except for the nurse’s face. “You’ll take care of me?”

She nodded. “I just gave you some more medication for your pain…you’ll be just fine. Just try to sleep. When you’ve healed enough for us to perform the next operation, you’ll see – you’ll be right as rain.”

“Right as rain,” Jack murmured sleepily as the world began to fade again. “Take care…of me…Talon’s…taking care…of me…”

The nurse smiled like an angel. “That’s right. Now. _Shh._ Just rest.”

He felt his face turn up into a smile, a giggle slipping through his lips as it all fell away once again.

 

_Talon Medical Facility_

_Location Unknown_

 

Consciousness returned slowly. There were voices around him. He thought he recognized one, maybe, but it felt as if it had been in a dream.

“It strikes me that you’d like to use him as a bit of a guinea pig, doctor.”

“You’re not entirely wrong. With the decision to provide him with integrated prosthetics, I felt it would be a good opportunity to test some of the other developments we’ve been working on.”

“I see your point, but I remind you that he needs to be _controllable._ Widowmaker –”

“Widowmaker’s malfunction is being addressed, sir. She just needs some further reconditioning.”

“Hm…” The voice paused for a moment. “I suppose after we approved removing his legs, this was a logical next step. I’ll give you some leeway, but we expect _reproducible results_ from this project, doctor. Is that clear?”

“Crystal, sir.”

Jack tried to talk, to say something, but all that came out was a rattling moan. It didn’t even really _sound_ like him…

“Ah – excuse me, I believe he may be waking up, and I’d like to put him back under so we can get back to work.”

“Of course. I’ll leave you to it, doctor.”

His eyes slowly opened, and when they did a man in a lab coat was looking at him with a smile that was just a bit too wide to be kind. “Hello, Jack. Don’t try to talk – we had a slight…complication during your last surgery, but don’t worry. We’ll fix it. We’ll fix everything.”

The doctor pulled a syringe from his coat and plunged it into one of the ports on the IV, and before Jack could object again, the darkness swallowed him back up.

* * *

“It went on like that for a while,” Jack explained. “Next time I woke up I could talk again, but I had trouble making much sense. A few days later, they let me out of bed to see if I could walk on my new legs.” He gestured down to his prosthetics. “That was a bit of a shock.”

Zenyatta hummed thoughtfully. “One can only imagine.” His hand came up in a graceful waving gesture. “If I may ask, your skin…?”

Jack held his hand out so his guest could examine it. “They told me it was to help with tissue rejection. I don’t know – maybe it does. But within a few days of being given the ‘treatments’ I started to change.” He shivered, remembering how his whole body felt like it had twisted and warped inside, as the color had leached from his skin and slowly grew more and more mottled with grey until it had finally become uniform, the texture slightly…off. “I heal faster, now. You could burn me, stab me, shoot me, and I’ll be fine in a day or two. I get hungry like you wouldn’t _believe_ , but I’ll live.”

Zenyatta chuckled. “Perhaps we should call you ‘Rasputin’, then?”

Jack had to admit he appreciated the dark bit of humor. Zenyatta wasn’t what he expected, really, but that wasn’t so bad…

* * *

Jack had started to get used to the changes to his skin and the new legs when they’d taken him out for ‘physical therapy’, but every time he thought he’d mastered some aspect of his changing body, he was given something new to deal with. More evidence of how Overwatch had betrayed him. Quiet suggestions that this would be a way for him to make them pay for what had happened. Conversations as they dosed him with drugs or provided food where his nurses and aides assured him that Talon had helped them, too. That when he was ready to leave, he would be a _hero,_ and that Jack would receive justice for all he’d suffered.

“We’d like to see how you can do with scaling this wall,” the doctor explained as he pointed to the sheer metal structure that had been constructed in the middle of the exercise yard. “Your feet have been designed to give you purchase and should help you dig in.”

Jack frowned. “I can just about see that, but what am I supposed to do for handholds?”

The doctor chuckled. “I’m so glad you asked.” Opening a heavy metal case, he pulled out a pair of armored gauntlets. “Please put these on.”

Once Jack had followed instructions he examined the armor, watching how the plating over his fingers flexed and shifted. “Fits pretty well, but I’m still not sure how these improve anything.”

The doctor grinned. “Press your index finger to your thumb.”

As he did so, there was a snapping sensation, and suddenly wicked looking spikes extended out of the backs of each forearm. “…well, that could do.” When Jack released his fingers, the blades retracted just as quickly.

“It’s based on some technology provided by one of our…benefactors.” The doctor gestured to the wall. “Please, give it a try?”

Running forward, Jack leapt into the air, snapping the spikes out and punching them home as he hit the wall, his clawed toes digging into the wall. Release the spikes, leap, punch home again. In the space of moments he’d made it to the top, hanging there for a moment before letting himself fall to the ground.

“Excellent,” the doctor smiled, “that’s exactly what we hoped for. Very well done, Jack! I think you’re nearly ready to start training with some of our higher level agents,”

Jack felt a swell of pride and happiness at the praise, then blinked as he considered what that really meant. “…am I a terrorist now?”

The doctor blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I’m…” Jack looked around slowly, as if just realizing what he’d been doing for the last…month? More? How long had he been here? “This is Talon. You’re terrorists. What am I doing here?”

The doctor stepped forward slowly. “You’re a _hero_ , Jack. You’re going to do so many great things. Don’t worry. We’ve been helping you, haven’t we?”

His head was aching suddenly and he felt a burning sensation in his guts. “Helping me…yes..” That was true, wasn’t it? “I…I’m a hero?”

“You are,” the doctor soothed, “you just need a little more work.”

Jack stared down at himself and felt a wave of revulsion that tore through the cotton that had been filling his mind. The gauntlets over his arms. The prosthetic legs. The pallor of his skin. “What else are you going to do to me? What else _can_ you do to me?” A wave of anger surged through him, the pain in his head amplifying it with each dull, aching thud. “What else is _LEFT?!_ ”

The doctor raised a hand. “Please, Jack. Just relax.” His other hand had slipped into his coat pocket, and Jack felt as if the world was going into slow motion. “Just…relax. We’ll take care of you.”

“NO!” His hand swung out, catching the doctor’s arm and sending the syringe he’d been pulling out of his coat flying. “Get _away_ from me!”

The doctor stumbled back with a cry of pain, grabbing the arm that was now bent at an unnatural angle. “Security! Get security in here now!”

Jack felt a laugh boiling up inside of him and he let it out despite the headache, the edge of pain in his voice turning it into an unhinged cackle as he ran for the training area’s gate. He gathered his legs under him and leapt for the armored border fence, punching into it just like the climbing wall as he started to ascend.

“Jack!” He heard the doctor’s voice behind him, but he wouldn’t let himself look back. Wouldn’t let them trick him. Wouldn’t let them put him to sleep again! “Please, Jack! We can _help_ you!”

He didn’t waste breath on laughing.

A swipe of his fist tore the barbed wire atop the wall apart, and he took a moment to crouch at the top as he looked out at freedom. He wasn’t in Italy anymore, but he didn’t recognize the countryside. He thought he saw a farmhouse in the distance, poking out between trees and fields covered in scars and furrows from battles during the Crisis.

It reminded him of the fields and farms that dominated the land around Yorkshire, and it gave Jack a sudden pang of longing.

 _I want to go_ **_home_** **.**

He had lost himself in that thought when a harsh voice grabbed his attention from the ground.

“Subject 2! Stand down and return to your room!” A squad of men in skull-faced helmets had assembled outside the compound a few meters from the base of the wall, rifles raised to take aim. Their apparent leader stepped forward, holding down on him with a pistol.

“Subject 2! You will obey my orders or be fired upon!”

_That’s not my name, mate._

He started to laugh again, and felt an odd flutter in his chest. A sort of buzzing vibration that started in his chest and rose into his throat.

“Last warning, Subject 2!” The squad leader racked the slide on his pistol. “You have five seconds to comply!”

Jack opened his mouth in a scream of defiance as he leapt from the wall, but to his shock his voice began to shriek at an almost inhumanly high pitch as the buzzing became overwhelming – and the air before him burst into flames.

 _That’s new. What the_ **_fuck_ ** _did they do to me?!_

The flames scorched the ground, melting armor and searing flesh as he swept his head from side to side, scattering the Talon soldiers with cries of fear and anguish.

When the buzzing faded and he closed his mouth, his throat ached, but compared to his ‘hosts’, he was doing brilliantly. Two smouldering corpses lay on the blackened ground, and the only one still standing to face him was that same squad leader, his frantic eyes visible beneath his cracked helmet.

The pistol came up again, his hands shaking. “Stay back! _Stay back!_ I’ll _shoot!_ ”

Jack didn’t even see a person as he stalked forward – and certainly didn’t see a threat. All he knew was the squad leader was the last thing between him and freedom.

“What…what _are_ you?!”

Jack didn’t answer as he started to run towards his final obstacle.

The first bullet slammed into his shoulder, staggering him for a moment.

The second sparked off his leg, but didn’t do any obvious damage.

The third hit him in the stomach, leaving the black and yellow striped tunic they’d given him for the test a bloody mess.

He’d closed the distance before the squad leader could fire a fourth, sending the pistol flying away with a swipe of his gauntlet.

“I’m Jack,” he said as he seized the squad leader by the throat.

“ _I’m_ _Jack,”_ he declared as he punched through armor plating like it wasn’t even there.

“ _I’m_ ** _Jack_** _,”_ he explained as he squeezed until he felt bone snapping under his fingers.

He cried _“I’m Jack!”_ as he threw the corpse to the ground, and shouted **“I’m Jack!”** as he ran into the countryside, furious, mad, terrible laughter in his wake.

“ _I’m Jack! I’m Jack! I’m Jack!_ **_I! AM! JACK!”_ **

* * *

Jack couldn’t help but shudder at the memories as he finished retelling the story of his escape. A dizzying cocktail of emotions washed through him again, just as they had that afternoon. Elation at his escape, horror at what he’d become, fear of being taken by Talon again, and a sick delight at the way he’d murdered at least three people.

He didn’t realize he’d wrapped his arms around himself until he felt a sudden warmth surrounding him, and when he looked up a golden orb from Zenyatta’s mala hung in the air before him, bathing him in light.

“Thank you,” he murmured as he slowly straightened back up, letting his hands fall back to his sides.

“I am not surprised the memories are troubling,” Zenyatta said as he called the orb back to him, turning it in his hands before placing it back around his neck. “You suffered much at Talon’s hands. But there will be another time to face those shadows – please, tell me, what did you do afterwards?”

Jack laughed, an exhausted chuckle rather than the manic giggles or unhinged cackles. “After I got my wits back? It turned out that I was in France. Not that far from the Swiss border, in fact…but after what had happened, I didn’t trust Overwatch.” He sat back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. “Little did I know it had collapsed, and that the headquarters had been blasted to Kingdom Come while I was Talon’s guinea pig.”

Zenyatta nodded. “Such extensive reconstruction takes a great deal of time.”

“Eighteen months,” Jack confirmed as he sat back up. “I lost eighteen months…” He shook his head. “I found a stack of newspapers in a barn. Talking about headquarters. Talking about the trials, Blackwatch, Antarctica, Petras, everything. And when it was all done…all I wanted to do was find a way back home.”

“Obviously you could not simply purchase a ticket.”

Jack grinned. “As a method of travel, hanging onto a Eurostar train by your fingers and toes is not exactly _pleasant_ , but I have to say you do get quite a view.”

* * *

 _Islington_ _  
_ _London, United Kingdom_

 

It wasn’t easy living in London with no ID, no clothes, no money, and visible cybernetics.

Stealing a hoodie and loose pants off a laundry line had helped with some of the more overt stares and derisive comments, but it didn’t fill his belly, and it didn’t give him anywhere he could safely rest.

He’d found himself slipping around the glitzier parts of the city like oil sliding over water, occasionally getting some handouts but mostly just getting pushed along into the poorest, roughest parts of the city, many of which still showed scars from the Crisis and had nothing to offer but the hope of a dry patch of ground in a crumbling building to sleep.

He’d been spotted stealing a few essentials from a Tesco, but once he’d made it through the door, he was able to climb until he had evaded his pursuit, eventually making his way back to what might have been a small shopping centre, once.

Now it wasn’t much of anything, but once he’d piled up enough rubble to make a few barricades, at least it gave him a place where he felt safe to sleep.

Which made the sound of metal on the concrete and stone outside rather shocking, really.

Waking from his fitful slumber on the ground, Jack lunged for where he had left his gauntlets beside him, shoving his hands into them before he settled into a tight crouch, straining his ears to follow the sounds of the movement.

_Could it be Talon? The Police? Security Services? Robbers? Did someone see me?_

Adrenaline coursed through him, sharpening every sense, and he could feel the flutter in his chest that signaled the flamethrower that Talon had somehow built into him was primed and ready if he needed it.

Visions of different threats and opponents were suddenly banished at the sound of a soft, slightly flanged voice calling to him.

“Hello? Is anyone in there?”

_An omnic?_

“I don’t want to startle,” the omnic continued, “but I noticed someone had been clearing debris out of this old pile, and the door being blocked.”

Jack slowly shifted back and forth on his feet, not quite sure if he should respond, forcing himself to calm down so that the flamethrower wouldn’t bring his entire squat down in flames around him if he spoke.

“My name is L0uis,” the omnic offered. “I work at Shelter Rowling – it’s not far. I realize you have somewhere to sleep, but it’s going to start getting cold, soon. Do you need a coat? Blankets? Something to eat? We have showers…”

Jack’s stomach growled, and he bit his lip until he tasted blood. God, he could manage to find food, but a _shower_ …that was a low blow. He didn’t even remember the last time he’d properly washed his _hands_ , let alone had a shower.

“I can leave my card,” L0uis suggested, “if you’d like some time to think about it. I can put it right outside the door and leave, if you’d feel more comf–”

“Wait!” Jack winced at the sound of his own voice – he hadn’t spoken much since his escape, fearing he might set the flamethrower off again until he’d figured out how to control it, and it was scratchy with disuse. “Please,” he croaked as he finally stood, pulling his gauntlets off and slipping them into a backpack he’d taken to carry what few things he had. “I’m sorry…I’ve been alone for a while. Just…wait a moment?”

“Of course,” L0uis agreed. “Take all the time you need.” The omnic chuckled from behind the pile of old brick and stone. “I’m sorry, I just realized I never asked your name.”

“I’m Jack…Jack Hyde.” Rather than tear down the barricade he’d spent so much time making, he pulled himself up to the gap he’d left at the top, chinning himself up to have a good look at his apparent benefactor.

L0uis was an older commercial model – maybe even one of the original Omnica offerings. He had a barrel chest and a somewhat blocky head with a rounded top, with a pair of brilliant blue sensors set into his forehead and sculpted impressions to suggest eyes and a nose in his face.  

The plating Jack could see had a blued gunmetal sheen, but to his surprise L0uis was wearing a heavy cable knit sweater, a pair of khaki trousers, and sensible looking shoes.

“Well!” L0uis looked up at him with amusement as Jack pulled himself through the opening, landing in a handstand before he righted himself. “That was rather good! Perhaps I ought to call you ‘Jumping Jack’.”

Jack did his best to smile. “Used to do jumps and tumbles on the obstacle course in Basic all the time.”

“Oh?” L0uis tilted his head to the side. “Were you a soldier, then?”

“Once,” Jack murmured, looking away. “I don’t really know what I am, anymore.”

“Well,” L0uis straightened up, offering him a hand. “I would say you look like someone who would appreciate a shower and a hot meal.”

“That’s true,” Jack admitted.

L0uis nodded and gestured towards the door. “Then I would say that’s as good a place to start as any.”

Shelter Rowling turned out to be a few blocks away, so they had a chance to talk a bit as they walked.

“Your legs are very interesting. Did you design them?”  
  
“No…it was a classified program, you might say. Replacements for a battlefield casualty.”   
  
“Oh, I see. Excuse me for prying.”

“No, I…it’s all right. I appreciate you asking nicely, and not calling me a freak or a monster.”  
  
L0uis seemed mortified by the very idea. “I would never – especially since you’ve been nice enough walk with me on such a lovely afternoon.”   
  
“I do have to ask…I don’t think I’ve met very many omnics who wear an outfit like that.”   
  
The omnic’s sensors brightened, his voice taking on a tone of amusement. “Well, I happen to be a bit old fashioned…as well as being old.”   
  
As they laughed at the joke, it was the most normal Jack had felt since the day he’d been betrayed by Overwatch, and he enjoyed the pleasant feeling of acceptance and company.

The shelter was in a building that had probably been a council estate or a large block of flats before the Crisis, and Jack was pleasantly surprised to be given a small efficiency apartment after filling out some basic paperwork – mostly agreeing not to harm anyone there, and that he would not bring drugs or alcohol in.

Oh – and the realization that nearly every member of the staff was an omnic.

“We’re sponsored and funded by the Shambali,” L0uis explained. “Something of an outreach program – helping our communities rebuild together and heal after everything that’s happened.”

“Is it working?”

L0uis shrugged. “Sometimes you just put one foot in front of the other, and see where you end up.” His voice took on a mildly teasing tone. “Today…well, it seems we’ll have one more for supper, so I would call it a success.”

Jack had to admit he had a point.

When he arrived at his room, the volunteers gave him a bottle of astringent smelling shampoo that made his nose itch, a bar of waxy soap, some basic toiletries, a set of clean (if institutional) clothes, and a pair of towels that felt like they’d been woven from sandpaper.

It was the most luxurious shower he’d ever had.

It took lathering up his hair three times before the water finally ran clear after he rinsed out the shampoo, and getting the grime and grease out of his skin took almost an hour beneath the hottest water he could stand. By the time he toweled himself off and scrubbed his hair dry, though, Jack felt as if he’d been given a whole new lease on life.

He braced himself to look into the mirror above the sink, but when he wiped the condensation away it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared.

He hadn’t really looked at himself since his ordeal had begun, but even after the changes to his body that Talon had wrought…it was still _his_ face. Scruffy and in desperate need of a shave, but he’d been given a disposable razor and a packet of gel foam to help take care of that problem.

His hair had been leached of colour by the same process that had altered his skin, but after the thorough shampooing, it was now a snowy white rather than the dingy, filth-streaked mess he’d started with, and a good combing took care of the worst tangles.

“Maybe I could ask about a haircut,” Jack mused to his reflection. “That would be nice…”

When he finished dressing and left the room, somehow he wasn’t surprised to see L0uis waiting. “Well, you did clean up rather nicely!” The omnic looked him and and down with an air of approval. “Are the clothes comfortable? You’re a bit taller than most of the guests we provide assistance to.”

“Fine,” Jack assured him with a smile. “So…you mentioned supper?”

L0uis chuckled as he gestured towards the elevator. “Right this way.”

Knowing the Shambali were sponsoring the shelter, Jack wasn’t surprised when he learned that they needed to watch a short program before their food would be served.

What did surprise him was how much the gold-and-ivory-plated Omnic who spoke to them captivated his attention. The sense of wisdom and compassion that seemed to radiate from him as he spoke, and his message of acceptance was so beautifully _simple_. The words captivated Jack, resonating inside of him like a bell being struck.

“ _We are all one,”_ Tekhartha Mondatta ended his sermon, extending his hands towards the camera, “ _within the Iris._ ”

Jack turned away from the screen and looked down at his twisted, mismatched body, his voice barely a whisper. “Even a freak like me…?”

“All,” L0uis said gently from where he sat beside him, “means all.”

As one of the volunteers sat a steaming bowl of lentil soup in front of him, Jack looked over to meet L0uis’ gaze. “I could use that.”

“It’s not a condition of staying here,” L0uis assured him, “but we _are_ always happy to offer instruction to those who are interested…and to accept volunteers.”

Two days after Jack had found the shelter (or L0uis had found him, he supposed), he watched from across the street as a woman screeched hatred at a group of omnics that had come out of the Underground to look for work.

“All you mechanicals should do us a favor and walk into a stamping press! At least then we’d get use out of the sheet steel! Get out of here and leave London to _real_ people!”

Her shrill voice and the filth she was spewing made Jack’s hands ball into fists. What right did she have to treat them like that? How would she like it if someone screamed at her like that?

“Maybe someone ought to give _you_ a proper fright,” he hissed under his breath, and before he quite realized what he was doing, he’d started to climb.

He followed her from the rooftops, laughing darkly at how his quarry never even looked up as she started to walk down the street, obviously feeling quite full of herself after the ‘brave’ act of harassing innocent people.

When she turned off the main street to walk down an alley, he dropped down and slammed into her from behind, roughly pushing her into the brick wall.

“Wha –!” The woman struggled under his arms. “What are you _doing?”_

Jack let go of one shoulder, spinning her around as he glowered at her. “All _they_ want to do,” he hissed furiously, “is get jobs. Work in peace. Take care of themselves.” His fingers flexed back and forth as he tried to control himself, making the spikes in his gauntlet snap in and out. “The only one here I see being useless…is scum like _you._ ”

The woman gibbered, her face going white from fright as she grabbed at his wrist, cutting her hands on the edges of the gauntlet’s armored plating. “You…you _freak!_ What the _fuck_ are you?"

At first he’d just wanted to scare her, but as he listened to her insults and _stupidity_ , a burst of white hot anger welled up inside of him, carrying him away on a wave of rage. He let out a soft, mocking giggle of a laugh as balled his free hand into a fist. “Me? I’m just _Jack._ ” He drove his fist into her ribs, twice, three, four times until he heard a satisfying crack of bone, and pink, foamy spit flecked at the edges of her lips.

He let her drop to the ground, gasping like a fish as she drowned in her own blood, then delivered a cruel stomp to her chest to finish the job.

Just another piece of garbage on the London streets. Someone else would probably be along to sweep it up soon enough.

* * *

“I am curious,” Zenyatta asked after he’d finished describing what he’d done, “what you felt afterwards.”

Jack shrugged uncomfortably. “A bit sick that I’d just…torn her apart like that. That I’d lost control. Angry at how she’d been treating them. Angry at how everyone on the street _didn’t care_. Glad that I’d done _something_.”

Zenyatta nodded. The descriptions of the violence and the thoughts behind it clearly hadn’t bothered him. Jack had to admit he appreciated that. Zenyatta wasn’t judging – he just _listened._ It was almost more than he’d dared hope for.

“What happened, after that?”

Jack shrugged. “Stayed around the shelter more, during the day. Started helping with fetching and carrying, worked in the kitchens sometimes. Listened to more of your brother’s teachings, began to study more of the writings.”

Zenyatta tilted his head. “And at night…?”

“A lot of breaker gangs and Human League types were out at night. Preying on any omnic who didn’t stay in the underground, or humans they thought were sympathizers.” Jack scowled at the memories. “I started to sneak out at night – climbed out the window and scaled the building. I’d do my best to keep anyone safe that I could. Stopped some muggings. Kicked in a few doors and left them for the police to find.”

“With lethal force?”

Jack went still as he thought of nights where he’d dropped from rooftops to attack breakers with kicks and punches, often grabbing their own baseball bats and crowbars to use against them. The sensation of an impact being transmitted up the haft of an axe handle. Of laughter echoing against brick and concrete. “Not…if I could avoid it. Not often.” Jack looked down at the floor. “Not until Mondatta.”

Zenyatta’s voice softened. “Ah.”

“I was watching,” Jack said softly. “We all were. Had it on the big screens because he was going to be visiting the shelter after his speech. We were all so _excited…_ ” He shook his head. “When we saw him being shuffled off the stage people were concerned, but everyone thought he would be _safe_ once he reached the car. But then…”

Zenyatta reached out and offered a comforting touch. “Sometimes the most painful loss is born from hope.”

Jack felt tears in his eyes. After all, for Zenyatta it had been more than a decade, but for him… He swallowed hard to keep himself from thinking about that. “Attacks got worse. More gangs. More organized. They tried burning down the shelter the week after his death, but no one seemed to care because they victims were ‘just’ omnics. ‘Just’ the poor. Even the police weren't taking it very seriously.” His hands tightened into fists again, running his thumb along his other fingernails. “So I left the shelter and started fighting back.”

* * *

Jack growled with frustration at the newspaper in his hands as he stared at _The London Herald_ ’s lurid headline:

 

**OMNIC RIPPER STRIKES AGAIN!**

_Another Innocent Human Found Dead At The Hands Of A Heartless Machine!_

_Metropolitan Police Fail To Produce Leads – Is It Time To Take Matters Into Our Own Hands?_

 

“Innocent?” He tore the paper in half, then tossed it to the floor of the old warehouse he’d been squatting in, his voice rising as he spat his anger at the rafters. “The head of a Human League chapter and selling Omnic parts his thugs ripped off of the _real_ victims, and you call that piece of shit _INNOCENT?!_ ”

Part of him knew he shouldn’t be surprised – the Herald was one of the worst of the rags out there, with a wickedly pro-human slant. Even as the world mourned the death of Mondatta, they’d pushed the boundaries of good taste by publishing a shot of the Shambali leader’s body lying dark and still on the street where he’d fallen with the gleeful headline “ _LIGHTS OUT!_ ” splashed across the top of the front page.

The rest, though…Jack wasn’t sure if he was more angry or frustrated. He’d started going after the gangs to send a message to stay away from the Underground and King’s Row. He’d escalated to finding some of the leaders because he realized that taking down lower level thugs wouldn’t be enough to deter them.

But rags like the Herald or the Sun just kept pushing. Couldn’t leave it be. Couldn’t let them just mourn and get by and _leave them alone._

“Well,” Jack murmured to himself, “maybe someone should do something about that.”

Two nights later, he screamed out his rage in the Herald offices until it had slagged the printing presses, laughing furiously as the heavy rolls of newsprint caught fire.

He left the message “ _JUSTICE FOR MONDATTA, JUSTICE FOR OMNICS”_ on every wall.

* * *

“That seems like a message that would get a great deal of attention,” Zenyatta observed.

Jack shook his head. “Oh, I didn’t realize it at the time, but it did…”

 

 _Watchpoint: Gibraltar_ _  
_ _Six months after the assassination of Tekhartha Mondatta_

 

“It’s getting bad, big guy.” Lena’s voice was tight with tension and concern as she paced back and forth across the lab. “The Underground’s been a powder keg since the Registration Acts and the Uprising, but now…” She shook her head. “I’m scared, Winston. It was bad enough that I couldn’t save Mondatta, but the Ripper…”

Winston stood from his tire to put a comforting hand on Lena’s shoulder. “You can’t keep blaming yourself for Mondatta, Lena. Widowmaker put you in an impossible position.”

Lena stopped with a sigh and leaned back into his touch. “Em keeps saying the same thing.”

Winston chuckled. “Emily _is_ a very intelligent woman…” He waited for Lena to smile, then let the amusement in his voice soften to concern. “And I am sure she worries about you, too.”

Lena closed her eyes and nodded. “Yeah. Which…don’t get me wrong, stopping Talon in Numbani was exactly the right thing, but…” Lena looked up at him, and Winston saw a flash of hopeful determination in her eyes. “We can’t let this keep getting worse. If we can stop the Ripper, it won’t fix everything, but it might let some of the pressure off. Keep things from coming completely apart.” She sighed. “Things seemed to finally be getting a bit better, back at Christmas.”

Winston looked over at some of the news feeds from London that Athena had placed up on the wall displays when Lena had begun talking about the rising tensions there.

_London Herald Offices Burned: 6 Found Dead Among Rubble_

_Omnic Ripper Destroys Newspaper_

_“Justice For Omnics” – Death For Humans?!_

_Could Null Sector Be On The Rise Again?_

_Tensions Rise Across London_

_Omnic-Supported Shelter Ransacked – Human League Claims Responsibility_

He stared at the screen for a long moment before he finally spoke. “Do you think the Ripper is likely to strike again tonight?”

Lena’s voice was grim. “Dead certain of it.”

Winston drew himself up from his seat and began to walk to the locker where he stored his jump pack. “Then I think we’d better hurry if we want to make it back to London before nightfall.”

* * *

From the top of a Kensington rooftop, Jack watched as the people below went along High Street for late-night shopping. Some just dreaming as they looked at the things they’d never be able to afford, some splurging, and some…some spending more money than he’d ever seen in his life.

It made him a little sick. Some of the same people casually buying bespoke suits and the latest designer outfits were likely the same ones who had bought shiny new household servants and ‘personal assistants’ from Omnica, back when they’d had a showroom in this same neighborhood, 30 years ago. Buying and selling thinking, intelligent beings without a thought for the morality of it.

Jack wondered how many would have been buying and selling women and children, a few hundred years before.

“Different times,” he murmured to himself, “different symptoms…same disease.”

He wasn’t going to cure a thousand years of human callousness, or 30 years of anti-omnic hatred…but he _could_ take one of the men who’d turned spreading that poison into a career, and do something about _him._

Oliver Chartwell had one of the most popular news and chat shows, recently, and he’d been one of the first to pick up the stories of the Ripper from the tabloids and turn them into a sensation.

At first Jack hadn’t minded – he’d hoped maybe the stories, wrong as they were, would at least be the deterrent he’d intended. Show that anyone trying to prey on the vulnerable would find themselves facing someone willing to fight.

But instead, Chartwell had just done everything he could to demand that the police “find this demented mechanical and make an example of it!” He’d encouraged more violence, and since Jack had burned the Herald, Chartwell had started to preach about how London’s omnic population should be “shoved into the Underground, and every door welded shut!”

Time to do something about _that._

Chartwell lived in a luxury high-rise flat that had been featured in society rags and lifestyle shows. Three bedrooms, three baths (even though he lived alone), marble everything, golden fixtures, all the latest trimmings. A _flat_ that Chartwell had bragged about paying _fifty million_ for.

He probably thought he was some kind of untouchable god, living forty floors up. Able to look down on everyone else, the consequences of his hate never reaching him.

Jack was looking forward to proving otherwise.

Chartwell normally filmed his show live for an eleven PM broadcast, so Jack had waited for night to fall before going to work. Riding trains, running across rooftops, even hanging off a bus at one point as he worked his way closer to the target, just like an infiltration mission.

He’d figured no one would ever be watching for a man in a black coat running across the rooftops at night (after all, Oxton seemed to get away with it, from the little snippets of news he’d seen of her career), so once he’d gotten a few blocks away, Jack thought he’d be in the clear.

He really wasn’t expecting a giant armored Gorilla to land right in front of him, lightning crackling from the Tesla cannon in his hands.

Skidding to a halt, the claws on his feet sparking as they dug into the concrete of the roof, Jack fell into a crouch, staring at Winston with wide eyes. They’d never properly met when he’d been an Overwatch recruit, but he’d seen the scientist around a few times, and Jack had watched some of the footage of his fight with Doomfist when he’d gotten access to the internet again, trying to understand what had led to Overwatch’s collapse.

But what was he doing in London – and what the _hell_ was he doing here tonight?

Winston reached up with his free hand, adjusting his glasses. “Ahh….the ‘Omnic Ripper’, I presume?”

Jack slowly straightened up. “That’s the name _they_ gave me.”

“I see.” Winston sat back slightly. “But you _are_ planning on attacking more people tonight.”

Jack heard the sound of air displacing behind him and turned enough to catch the glow from Tracer’s accelerator out of the corner of his eye. He wondered if Oxton recognized him. She didn’t say anything if she did. He turned back to face Winston. “What do you care? Overwatch is gone, last I checked – and all I’ve been doing is going after the _bastards_ who keep pushing us to the brink. I’m trying to make sure that Chartwell, the Human League, the Silver Shirts, and _anyone else_ who wants to prey on the Underground will know that we’re going to push back.”

“But you’re _not_ an omnic,” Winston objected gently, as if that wasn’t obvious.

“It’s my _home,”_ Jack snarled. “I may not be an omnic, but I’m one of the lost and forgotten, all the same. One of the ones that these _bastards_ prey on, pushing us down into the cracks! The ones _OVERWATCH_ was supposed to be _protecting!_ ” His voice was rising and Jack could feel the fluttering in his chest and throat that would let him spit flames into the night if he wished, just barely hurling back the urge as he stalked towards the former Overwatch scientist. “ _YOU SHOULD BE_ **_HELPING_ ** _ME!”_

Winston let his cannon flip back up over his shoulder and raised his hands placatingly. “You’re right. The world needed us, and we weren’t there. But we’re trying to change that.’

Jack scoffed. “By doing _what_ exact –”

His words were interrupted by the supersonic whizz of a bullet slicing through the air, followed a heartbeat later by a sharp _crack_ , and he caught the blur of blue light as Oxton moved out of the way of the bullet.

“ _Sniper!_ ” Oxton called out as she began to run in the direction the shot had been fired. “I’m on her!”

Winston turned to watch her go, his attention breaking, and Jack took advantage of the opportunity. Lunging into a headlong run, he leapt up and over Winston’s head, his feet scraping the top of the jump boosters on the back of Winston’s suit, then dug into the edge of the neighboring rooftop, scrambling until he could get his feet under him.

Winston let out an offended “ _HEY!”,_ and Jack could hear the thud of his landing as he gave chase, accented by the snapping snarl of electricity occasionally earthing into the ground and building fixtures as Winston passed them.

He didn’t catch where Oxton or the sniper had gone, but no more bullets flew in his direction, so Jack would consider them handled well enough for now.

There was a roar of thrust and a crash behind him, and but Jack didn’t look back. Winston was nearly on top of him. Chartwell’s building was a few hundred meters ahead, but the odds of making it there – and getting to his target – were almost nil, now. The only option left was to escape and try again another day.

Which is why Jack threw himself hard to the left, grabbing a cellular network antenna and using it to help him corner. He thought he heard Winston calling for him to wait, to stop, but Jack just threw himself into space.

He felt his ribs crack when he hit the roof of an Overground train carriage, a shower of sparks flying with a scream of tortured metal as his gauntlets dragged along the roof before finally stopping his fall.

Panting from the exertion and the pain, his chest burned with every breath and his vision was red at the edges, but Winston didn’t continue his chase. He couldn’t help but laugh as he waited for the train to approach the Gloucester Road station, then pulled himself to his feet as the carriage slowed for the curve and timed his jump. He scaled the side of a low-rise building, then threw himself forward as he reached the top, stumbling against a heating unit as he tried to give himself a moment to catch his breath.

His heart pounded in his ears, the fading adrenaline and shock leaving him weak…and just when he’d thought it was over, the fist of an angry god slammed into his back, sending him sprawling. He tried to push himself up, but collapsed with a yell as as something buried itself painfully into his arm.

It felt as if fog was crawling through his veins, and everywhere it passed went numb. Jack tried to turn his head and it felt as if it took every ounce of strength he had to keep his eyes open as a pair of heavy boots approached him with a slow, even tread.

As the darkness started to swallow him up, his eyes slowly traced up the boots to legs, the legs to a torso covered in black leather, belts, and a long cloak…but where there should have been a face, there was a bone-white mask.   
  
**“There’s enough tranq in there for an elephant,”** the masked figure intoned as Jack’s eyes slipped closed. **“It won’t hold him long. Get the transport in here** ** _._ ** **Widowmaker – disengage and rendezvous** ** _._ ** **”**

* * *

“Do you remember anything else?”

Jack shook his head. “No. I assume they kept drugging me until they could put me in storage somewhere. I didn’t remember anything from the night I passed out at Reaper’s feet until…” Jack shook his head. “Well. Until I woke up…”

Zenyatta nodded. “One of my former students has some knowledge of Talon. She may be able to fill in the gaps, when it is the proper time.” He spun the orbs of his mala slowly around him, then picked one from the necklace that he could shift from hand to hand. “So – when you woke up…?”

Jack laughed bitterly. “Oh, when I woke up, _everything_ had changed.”

* * *

At first, all Jack could understand was the cold.

It surrounded him, soaking into his bones and stealing away his breath. So cold he couldn’t move – couldn’t even _shiver_ , but he thought he could hear voices…

 

“-cond longest case I’ve ever heard of.”

_“You’re in danger of washing out.”_

“Starting to see some brain activity!”

_“You’re a guest, Mr. Hyde.”_

“Careful with the thermal blanket.”

_“Perhaps I ought to call you ‘Jumping Jack’.”_

“Heartbeat’s rising rapidly!. Blood pressure spiking!”

 _“What the_ fuck _are you?!”_

“He’s in a-fib!”

_“Subject two! Stand down!”_

“Start charging in case we need to shock him!”

“ _All are One within the Iris.”_

“ _CLEAR! ” _

“ _I’m Jack! I’m Jack! I’m Jack!_ **_I! AM! JACK!”_ **

There was a sharp snapping, popping sound and Jack felt his entire body convulse, the cold receding, replaced by a tingling, staticky sensation that ran through his limbs.

Just before he opened his eyes, he heard the soft voice of the Talon doctor who had taken his legs: “ _We’ll fix everything…”_

White walls. Bright lights. Masked men and women in scrubs. Beeping monitors. Wires. Tubes.

Doctors.

_TALON._

“Try to calm down, sir, please! You’re safe now.” A woman leaned over him, her features obscured by a surgical mask and cap. “Just try to relax. We’re going to take care of you, OK?”

Adrenaline slammed through Jack’s veins as he forced himself up, his hand coming up to grab the woman by the shoulder and push her backwards. “You said that _before_ ,” Jack grated. His voice was rusty, but grew stronger as it rose into a shout. “They _all_ said that before! I won’t let you do it! I WON’T LET YOU!”

His legs hit the floor and Jack stumbled, off balance, before he caught himself, claws digging into the floor. He looked down at himself – still wearing the pants and shirt he’d had on when he’d been knocked out. Still wearing his gauntlets. That would be enough.

He shoved past several other gowned-and-masked medical personnel, then bashed through a door at a dead run.

He could see daylight ahead. A window. _An escape_.

He could hear voices yelling for security, begging him to stop, urging him to _come back_.

Jack brought his gauntlets up to protect his face, and burst through the window instead.

 

 _Postman’s Park_ _  
_ _London_

 

Lena Oxton sighed as she sat down on an unoccupied bench. It was nice not having to sneak around at all hours, especially with Overwatch considered an official organization again. But the downside of being legal these days was seemingly endless liaison meetings with other organizations, glad-handing VIPs, and other duties that really made her miss running around in the dead of night, sometimes.

“I don’t know how you do it,” she confessed into her phone as she spoke to the newly appointed Strike-Commander. “I have to do this once or twice a _month_ and I’m wiped out. You’re having meetings like this, what, every other _day?_ ”

Fareeha Amari chuckled, reaching up to run a hand through her hair on the video call. “When you put it like that, I start feeling a bit nostalgic for getting shot at all day.”

Lena snorted. “Don’t let Angela hear you say that, luv.”

“I suppose she might have something to say about that,” Fareeha admitted. “But the liaison meeting went well?”

“Yeah, the lads from the plod hardly ever remind me they used to pick me up for tagging these days.” Lena grinned. “I suppose it helps being married to one of their own. I gave them an update on the latest cases we’re sharing the load on, and they’ve managed to get a line on that weapons shipment we intercepted last month. Looks like the Deadlock gang was shipping through the Blackwood network.”

Fareeha frowned thoughtfully. “Makes sense. Blackwood’s ships and couriers stay mobile, and since they’re basically pirates they have plenty of stolen goods and contraband to trade…we’ll need to see what we can do about that.”

Before Lena could agree, Athena’s synthesized tones came into the call. “I apologize for interrupting the conversation, but there is a situation near your location that may need your attention, Agent Tracer.”

“Oh?” Lena’s eyebrows rose. “What’s up, Athena?”

“A violent ‘John Doe’ patient broke out St. Bartholomew’s hospital and has been sighted heading towards King’s Row.”

“Why not just have the lads from the plod pick him up?”

“He leapt out of a sixth story window, and descriptions report he has an unusual skin tone and non-standard cybernetic legs.”

“Oh my God.” Lena stood, pulling down her goggles. “The _Ripper?!_ It’s been almost _ten years_ since the night Winston chased him off. We thought he was _dead…_ ”

Fareeha’s eyebrows rose. “Apparently not. See what you can do, Lena – maybe if you can bring him in we can get a few answers about where he’s been.”

“Right,” Lena flipped the call to her earpiece, then tucked her phone into the map pocket of her Shearing jacket. “So much for lunch and surprising the kids at school.” Tightening down the straps of her accelerator’s harness, she began to blink her way towards the edge of the park. “Athena, can you put me on an intercept vector?”

“Sending to your goggles HUD now.”

* * *

Jack’s chest ached and his eyes were wild as he made his way across London. Things were…off. The big landmarks, sure, those were just fine, but a lot of buildings, smaller roads, even the _cars_ looked a bit different. Like someone had been doing work that he’d somehow missed.

_How long was I asleep?_

At least King’s Row was still fairly easy to find.

 _If I can make it to the Underground I can hide. Get my feet under me. Beg or borrow some clean clothes. Find out what’s been going on_...

He’d been going from rooftop to rooftop when a sound made him freeze. High pitched, faint but etched in his memory for years. A sound like someone cutting a taut metal wire.

The sound Tracer made when she was teleporting.

_Oxton!_

Right. Of course. She lived around the Row, didn’t she?

He turned in the direction of the noise and saw her disappear and reappear again, rapidly closing, almost like the afterimage from a camera flash as she popped in and out of reality.

_Not going to outrun her…_

He leapt down into an alley, digging into the brick to slow his fall before he dropped to the ground, grunting as his legs absorbed the shock of the landing.

His chest was heaving and it took a moment to catch his breath before he ran deeper into the alley, knowing Oxton would follow.

_I’ll need a distraction…_

Jack felt like he had half an idea when there was a flash of blue light ahead of him, and Oxton materialized, pistols drawn.

“ _Got you!_ ” Her eyes widened beneath the orange lens of her goggles in shocked recognition as Jack dug his claws into the concrete to help stop himself. “That’s…wait…Hyde?” Oxton’s pistols wavered, and the barrels slowly dipped towards the ground. _“You’re_ the Ripper?!”

Her hesitation was all Jack needed. He opened his mouth in a scream, and Oxton cried out in surprise as she teleported away from the flames as he swept them back and forth across the alley, setting garbage, debris, and a few wooden pallets alight.

He jumped away and began to run for the underground again, and by the time Oxton had finished helping to contain the fire, Jack had disappeared beneath the London streets.

* * *

Lena ended up having to help complete incident reports and make a statement to the police about her attempt to pursue the ‘escaped patient’ before she could finally make her way home.

(She didn’t call him the Ripper, or give the police his name. Not yet. One would have just caused panic, and the other…well. No point in telling them to chase down a dead man, was there?)

She’d tossed her clothes into the laundry as quickly as she could once she’d gotten back to the house, but it had taken a long, hot shower and shampooing her hair three times before she’d stopped smelling of burning garbage and smoke.

Lena kept quiet during dinner, doing her best to relax and just listen to Benji and Viv talking about their day at school. She spent some time playing with them in the living room to help distract herself, but once the kids had been told it was bedtime, she’d gone to grab a beer before settling down on the couch.

“Right,” Emily said as she sat down, “ _something_ has been eating you since this afternoon, Lena. Talk.”

So she did.

She told Emily about the botched mission in Italy (unknowingly, her first brush with Widowmaker), about how she’d seen Hyde shot and how they’d left his body behind. About the phone call she’d gotten with Fareeha. About chasing after the ‘escapee’, and the horrible realization that the former Overwatch recruit who had sacrificed his life to save her and the violent, psychotic murderer who had nearly thrown London into chaos were the same man…and about how Hyde had escaped.  

Lena sighed as she finished her story, then took a long pull of her beer. “I just…I wish I knew what _happened,_ Em. The last time I saw him, he was taking a bullet for me, and somehow he turns into that? Into the _Ripper?_ What makes someone change like that?” She shook her head. “ _Something_ happened to him. Something bad, and there but for the grace of God…”

Emily’s eyes swept over her with concern. “Mm. But at the same time…you are still _here_ , lovely.”

“I know, I know…” Lena gave her a shaky smile even as she sank into the couch. “I just wish there was a way to find him again – let him know we _remember_ him and find a way to do _something_ to help. I owe him, Emily…”

“Lena,” Emily reached out to take her hand, running her thumb over the back of her palm. “Even if you can find him, even if there is something that _could_ be done to help him…some people need to accept that they _want_ help before they’ll allow you to do anything.”

Lena nodded, but before she could do more than acknowledge the point, the sound of a throat being cleared made them both stop and look over.

After treatments to adjust her heart rate and blood chemistry, Amélie’s skin had slowly warmed to a shade that was still much paler than what most people considered healthy, but as the three of them liked to joke, it let her attend parent-teacher conferences without screams or emergency services being called.

Lena smiled to her, beckoning her to join them on the couch. “They’re finally asleep?”

Amélie rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she spoke. “Vivyan _insisted_ I read that I read _Anatole_ to them again before she would settle down.”

“In French,” Emily guessed with a smile.

“You had to hate that,” Lena agreed. “I’m sure it was a struggle to do all the little mouse voices, too.”

Amélie snorted. “Benji said it is not the same without them.”

“Mm- _hmmm_ ,” Emily teased her lightly, “of course it isn’t.”

Lena scooted over so Amélie could sit between them, and kisses were exchanged before they settled together, with Amélie going back to their earlier topic.

“Emily is not wrong about Hyde needing to want you to help him…but I think I may know at least _some_ of what happened to him, and perhaps that can be of use.”

* * *

Widowmaker’s eyes swept over the lab, lingering on the bed that was normally used for her ‘maintenance’, now occupied by the grey-skinned, white-haired man who had been strapped down in her place.

“This was a disappointing experiment, Doctor.” The thin-faced council member was at least ten centimeters shorter than the doctor who nervously sweated in his labcoat, but his sheer presence seemed to tower over everyone except perhaps Reaper. “Clearly he was _not_ as controllable as you’d planned – and after sinking a great deal of time and effort into improving him, he proved _quite_ difficult to re-acquire.”

“We had no idea that he would become so resistant to drug therapy,” the doctor explained with a stammer of fear in his voice. “Hypnotherapy may prove more successful – after all, Widowmaker is proof of how effective such techniques could be.”

Widowmaker kept her expression carefully neutral, not letting her eyes leave the blemish she’d noticed on the opposite wall. She could almost hear Sombra’s voice in her ears. _“What they don’t know can’t hurt them…yet.”_

“I do not recall asking you for _excuses_ , Doctor.” The councilor was normally difficult to read but now his eyes flashed with anger. “The _only_ reason you are still alive, let alone employed by this organization, is that your subject’s _erratic behavior_ in London advanced our goals, however unwittingly. Otherwise…” He let the implied threat hang in the air until the doctor had begun to sweat, then turned back to the bed.  “No hypnotherapy for now. You’re certain cryostasis will hold him?”

“Yes, sir,” the doctor squeaked nervously. “Quite certain.”

“Very well. Prep him and place him into storage for the time being – and the next time you are allowed to return to this project, you will be _absolutely certain_ he can be controlled _before_ he is woken up, or suffer the consequences.”

* * *

Lena listened in rapt fascination until Amélie finished her story.  “Did you see him again after that?”

Amélie shook her head. “He was removed – still sedated – and taken to another facility to be frozen. When I began helping to fight against Talon, I never found any sign of ‘the subject’. I wondered if he, and the doctor who had been experimenting on him, had been killed, especially after I…departed. Disappointing members of the council was often fatal.”

“Reasonable guess,” Emily admitted. She looked over at Lena with a thoughtful frown. “He broke out of St. Bart’s?”

Lena nodded. “That’s right.”

“I’ll make a few calls tomorrow. We may never know what happened to him between then and today, but I think I should be able to find out how he ended up in hospital, at least.”

 

_Watchpoint: Gibraltar_

 

It had taken a few days to arrange for a briefing with everyone they needed in Winston’s lab.

Amélie leaned against one of the cavern walls that had been adapted for the facility, while Lena stood next to one of the large displays that dominated the lab. Winston waited on one of his heavy tire seats, while Genji sat in a human-scale seat, and Zenyatta floated serenely next to him.

“This,” Lena began as Athena opened the briefing flie she’d set up. “Is Jack Hyde. A member of the Royal Marines who was working to join Overwatch back in 2069.” The display showed Hyde in his Overwatch ID picture, wearing his cadet uniform. “He deployed with a team for a mission against a Talon training base in Italy, and was believed killed in action when we were ambushed by a much larger Talon force than we’d expected.”

Genji titled his head. “I think I remember that. Your…second mission? A few months before Numbani?”

Lena nodded. “Yeah.” She cleared her throat, working to keep herself focusing on here and now. “Hyde was hit by Talon fire and went down. We believed it had been a fatal injury, and Commander Morrison ordered what was left of the strike team to pull back and withdraw.”

Zenyatta hummed softly. “I take it he survived?”

“Yeah.” Lena nodded and the file advanced to pictures that Athena had been able to pull from recovered Talon data. “Apparently someone in Talon decided that he might make a good guinea pig for a ‘modification program.’ Similar to what was done to Amélie, but with a goal of creating something close to the old Soldier Enhancement Program. A way to mass produce ground troops who could fight like seven or eight conventional soldiers.” Lena gestured to the screen. “Cybernetic modifications, drug therapy to make him ‘receptive’ to commands and training, biotic formulas, the lot. Except that once they were finished, he escaped.”

Winston took up the thread. “We weren’t aware of it at the time, but after breaking out of the facility where he was being kept by Talon, Hyde made his way to London some time in 2072, and he was under the radar until late 2075…when a series of violent killings began in response to the assassination of Tekhartha Mondatta.”

Lena’s eyes flicked to Amélie, catching her eyes with a sympathetic look, then over to Zenyatta, who had bowed his head in thought. “I recall some of the news after my brother’s death. You’re referring to the one known as the ‘Omnic Ripper’?”

“That’s right.” The screen shifted to some of the same headlines that Lena had shown Winston before they’d attempted to capture the Ripper the first time. “Lena and I attempted to capture him at the time, not long after the Recall, but Talon prevented us from apprehending him – because they were attempting to retrieve him as well.”

Amélie took over. “I was ordered to ‘distract’ Tracer and Winston while Reaper tracked and eventually cornered Hyde. He was injured, and Gabriel was given a specially formulated tranquilizer to knock him out. Once Talon had recaptured and Hyde, he was placed into cryostasis while the doctors who had performed his initial modifications were tasked to make him more…controllable.” She took a deep breath, then spoke again. “At some point, Talon abandoned the facility where he was being stored, and he was, essentially, lost for the last several years.”

It was Lena’s turn to explain again. “That changed about a week ago.” The screen changed to show a long metal tube being rolled into a hospital by paramedics. “Construction workers demolishing a vacant warehouse found a false wall that wasn’t on the blueprint. When they found a way inside, they found money, several crates of what turned out to be Talon weapons and uniforms…and that tube. A portable cryostasis chamber.”

“Fascinating,” Zenyatta observed. “A storehouse, then?”

Lena nodded. “Probably belonged to one faction or another that got rolled up, and no one was alive to know that it still existed.” The screen changed to show Hyde on a hospital bed after he’d been removed from the pod, covered in a silver thermal blanket while doctors worked around him. “Once they realized there was a person inside the pod, he was rushed to St. Barts hospital, where they worked to get him out and revive him.”

The picture shifted to a security video of Hyde waking up and shoving his way through the doctors and nurses, the cameras following until he eventually leapt out of the window.

“I happened to be in the area,” Lena explained, “so Athena notified me and I got on his trail. Didn’t know who he was at the time, aside from being the Ripper, but when I finally got close enough I got a good look – and I think he recognized me, too.”

Genji straightened in his seat. “What happened?”

“He tried to light me – and most of the street – on fire using some kind of weapon built into his mouth.”

Genji gave a dark chuckle. “Well. _That’s_ new.”

Winston cleared his throat. “From the old Talon files we were able to locate, it appears that Jack’s larynx was badly damaged in the course of one of his surgeries. Talon replaced it with an artificial one, and included an experimental weapon – a sonic projector that can oscillate the air leaving his lungs at such a high frequency that the oxygen actually combusts for a short period of time.”

Genji’s visor flickered several times as he leaned back in his seat, his voice radiating surprise. “So...he breathes fire?”

“He breathes fire,” Winston confirmed with a sigh. “Our best guess, given the nature of how Talon was modifying him, was that it was intended to be a terror weapon.”

Zenyatta’s mala rotated a few times as he considered the screen, which had changed to show the scorched and blackened alleyway where Lena had attempted to corner Hyde. “I take it he escaped, after demonstrating this ability?”

“He did,” Lena admitted. “But based on his history and a few rumors from back when he was operating in London before, I think it’s likely he’s gone somewhere into the Underground. I have a few contacts there I plan to work with to try to find him…but once we do, we’ll need help to bring him in.”

Zenyatta hummed thoughtfully. “And what do you intend to do, if you can capture him? Based on everything we know, there is a good chance that he will be quite difficult to contain – and he is likely insane.”

Amélie walked to stand next to Lena. “Even if Talon did not completely indoctrinate him, the stress of all that he experienced has taken a toll on his mind, just as it did mine. I know that we cannot guarantee anything…but Overwatch was willing to give me a chance to heal. To redeem myself…to make a new life. Hyde was just as much a victim of Talon as I was. I would ask that we not give him anything less.”

Lena nodded, reaching out to take Amélie’s hand in her own and squeezing it before she turned to look over to Zenyatta. “I know it’s a tall order, but if _anyone_ can help him, Zenny…”   
  
Zenyatta brought his hands together across his chest as he bowed his head. “I would be honored to try.”

* * *

 _The Omnic Underground_ _  
_ _20 meters below the streets of London_

 

Lena generally liked visiting the Underground, either in civilian gear (or at least as close to civvies as she could get) or as Tracer. Even though racism and hatred had forced the omnic community into these shadowy, hidden spaces, they had spent the last ten years truly making them their own, and now it was a beautiful, vibrant community.

People making do with the best that they had, and finding ways to turn it into something beautiful. Perhaps not a space for most humans, but it was a space where she had always felt comfortable and welcome.

She ducked into a shop, waving to the owner. “Hiya!”

F3lix, the owner, was an older service model, and his voice had a round, upperclass posh tone that never failed to make her smile. “Ah, good day, Lena! How nice to see you.”

Lena smiled as she wandered towards the counter, looking over stacks of spare parts and boxes of consumables. “Sorry I haven’t been by for a while. Turns out being a mum is a pretty full time job.”

F3lix chuckled, his sensors brightening. “I can only imagine – especially for you!”

“Oi!” Lena put her hands on her hips, mock-offended. “I assure you I’m the responsible one.”

The shopkeeper synthesized an impressively derisive snort. “I’d almost believe that if I hadn’t met both your wives.”

Lena laughed and shook her head. “OK, OK, you got me.”

F3lix tilted his head in the omnic equivalent of a smirk. “So. What did you come down here for, aside from the pleasure of allowing me to skewer you for a little while?”

Lena walked over to the counter, letting her voice dip low. “I’m looking for someone. He’s been out of circulation for a while, but I’ve heard he’s back in the smoke, and might be finding some friends down here.”

F3lix leaned in. “Must be someone you want to talk to pretty badly, then.”

“I owe him,” Lena admitted. “I don’t think he knows it, but he took a bullet for me once…and he’s had some bad turns since. Hurt some people. But I want to give him a chance to get clean. He deserves that much.”

“Well.” F3lix leaned back, tapping his fingers against the countertop. “When you put it like that…give me what information you can, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Lena nodded. “Right. Just…be careful. Like I said – he’s got some issues. I don’t think he’d hurt anyone deliberately, but…”

F3lix synthesized a little grunt. “Well. I guess we’ll just try to be on our best behavior, then.”

Lena smiled as she pulled some pictures from Hyde’s original Overwatch dossier out of her jacket, along with a few CCTV captures they’d managed from when he’d been at large as the Ripper. “His name’s Jack…”

* * *

It took almost two weeks of quiet enquiries, but Lena wasn’t surprised that F3lix was able to come up with Jack’s location. The vigilante, it seemed, had been sleeping in one of the abandoned sewer tunnels that been sealed off when the Underground had been established.

“I do not want you to go in alone.” Amélie frowned as Lena explained her plan. “At the least, he will be unstable, if not outright hostile.”

Lena shook her head. “Droppin’ a whole squad on top of him will just spook him – or worse. Me, myself, with no weapons, I can reach out and try to coax him home.” Her frown turned thoughtful. “Besides, love – even in your new kit, a lot of the lads down in the Underground won’t be happy to see you if they realize you’re Widowmaker.”

“True,” Amélie sighed. “Will you let me cover you, at least?”

Lena grinned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  Looking over to the other figure who had been thoughtfully examining the map table. “Now, if he _does_ try to bolt, well, that’s where you come in.”

Genji chuckled. “I look forward to trying to catch a man who can climb walls and breathe fire.”

Amélie smiled dryly. “I’m sure this has nothing to do with the babysitting incident.”

Lena winked. “Course not. Genji’s a well-liked and known presence down there. Plus he’s about the only one who might be able to keep up with Hyde, aside from me.”

They shared a brief laugh before becoming more serious. “So,” Amélie asked, “tonight?”

Lena nodded. “Tonight.”

 

_The Omnic Underground_

 

Lena glanced up at the network of girders, catwalks, and lamps that formed the Underground’s “sky”. “You in position, luv?”

“Confirmed,” Amélie whispered into her comm from the catwalk she’d settled on, “Widowmaker in position.”

Lena looked up and blew her a kiss, getting an amused snort over the radio for her trouble. “Genji?”

“Waiting for your signal.” If she squinted, Lena could see a faint green glow from one of the small buildings that had been built next to the tunnel mouth.

“Right, then. Wish me luck…” Lena took her deep breath, and approached the tunnel. A crude chunk of steel roofing panel had been shoved into place as makeshift door, and she could just make out a faint light against the old brickwork – a battery powered lantern, maybe.

Lena carefully pushed the panel aside, trying to make as little noise as she could, and a few feet into the tunnel she could see the lantern’s glow just barely reaching to touch a ragged pile of clothes, reflecting off the clawed feet that poked out from the pants legs.

“Jack? Jack Hyde…?”

The bundle of dark clothes shifted. “…Oxton?” Jack’s voice sounded almost just as it did more than ten years ago – the time he missed “out of circulation” making him appear younger than he should. Slowly, an armor-clad hand gripped a piece of what was once a rebar ladder, helping him pull himself up to a sitting position. “It’s…really you.”

Lena tried to give him a good smile, but finally getting a clear look at the former Overwatch rookie meant the sight of him was…sobering, to say the least. His skin that odd grey, and had an almost rubbery texture. The legs that stuck out beneath the suit pants he was wearing ending in their bizarre, clawed feet, like a bird or a dinosaur, contrasting with the surprisingly nice-looking waistcoat and a white button down shirt beneath it, his hands ending in the plated gauntlets with the extendable claws he’d seen him use to climb before.

His hair had gone almost snow white, and looked dearly in need of a wash and shampoo, the ends lanky and matted.

Lena took a deep breath and knelt, keeping her hands out at her sides. “I am. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

Jack giggled, his smile widening freakishly before he calmed himself down. “You could say that. Been through a lot, haven’t we?”

Lena nodded. “Some more than others.” She looked at him with concern. “I was able to get some idea of what Talon might have done to you from a…friend.” She didn’t want to mention _Widowmaker_ yet – he had no idea Amé had come out of the shadows, and spooking him was the last thing she wanted. “Anyone tell you that you probably saved my life that day? That bullet you took was meant for me.”

Jack shook his head, the smile disappearing. “All I did was get shot. And captured. And Tortured. Because you _left_.”

“I didn’t want to,” Lena said softly, tears in her eyes.

Jack’s expression softened. “I know…sorry. It’s hard for me not to get…” He looked away. “I heard you. I heard you trying to save me. I heard Morrison ordering you to go…” He sighed. “Sorry. You’re not the one I’m really angry at – that’d be the almighty Strike Commander. I still can’t believe that bastard had the poor manners to die before I could tell him off for that!”

Lena winced inwardly. Well, that was a talk for another day, it seemed. “Not sure if you heard, but we’re back these days – Overwatch, that is.”

Jack nodded. “Heard Talon’s gone, too. Good riddance.” He looked at her. “So…lookin’ for me to join up?”

Lena shook her head. “Not right away – but we thought you might… _I_ thought you might want a chance to get some help. Start over. Not have to live on the streets.” She gave him a serious look. “After all you went through…it’s the very least we can do.” _Because in a lot of ways, it was our fault._ She opened her hand. “After that, though…who knows?”

Jack put a hand to his legs, his voice tinged with bitterness. “There’s some things even _you_ can’t undo, Oxton.”

“I know. But there are ways we might be able to make things easier for you.” She smiled. “I’ve got a friend who would love to have a chat or two with you. I think you’d like him.”

Jack was silent for a long moment before he looked up, giving her a smile – something like a _real_ smile – and it made her heart ache. “Well. It would be nice to make a few new friends.”

Lena stood back up and offered him her hand. “So, come with?”

Jack let her pull him up to his feet with a chuckle that turned into a grunt as he found his footing. “You still think the world could use a few more heroes, Oxton?”  
  
Lena gave his hand a firm squeeze before she turned to lead him out of the tunnel. “Always.”


End file.
